


Whisky and Rain

by biswholocked



Category: Third Star (2010)
Genre: After the Movie, Angst, M/M, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 05:05:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1766560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biswholocked/pseuds/biswholocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The day that they buried him was cloudy, the sky half-heartedly dropping water.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whisky and Rain

The day that they buried him was cloudy, the sky half-heartedly dropping water. Davy couldn’t bring himself to open the umbrella he’d brought, instead allowing the drizzle to coat his face and hair with fine droplets as the preacher said some final words and stepped back to make room for the men lowering the coffin into the hole in the ground.

Davy didn’t know why he was there- James was dead, and the rock that had appeared in his chest as he watched Jim’s head go under the water and not back up hadn’t abated. He was barely sleeping, instead spending the nights with a bottle of whisky and the collection of piano CDs that had belonged to James. He knew that he looked like hell-both Miles and Bill, as well as Jim’s family, had given him concerned glances when he’s shown up in a wrinkled suit, but couldn’t bring himself to care enough even for half hearted reassurances. Instead he hung back from them, not wanting to share in the guilt any more than he already was and deal with pity on top of it. Being at the funeral hadn’t done anything for Davy-hadn’t given him any kind of closure, especially when James hadn’t even been Christian, making the preacher’s platitudes about heaven moot.

 _I loved that man_ , Davy thought as he walked through the cemetery, being sure to avoid Miles and Bill again. Yes, there was sexual attraction, but it had never been about that as much as it had been about caring for someone so much that he’d do anything for them, about holding them when they were weak and knowing when they needed comfort by the slump of their shoulders. He’d been there for James always, except for when he wanted to most, when he died, and his absence had ripped a hole that only got larger with each passing day.

Water droplets were racing each other down the train window. Davy focused on them as he tried not to cry.

* * *

That night, Davy opened yet another bottle and sat by the window, watching the rain that had finally decided to come down in torrents. Tear tracks stained his cheeks and his hair was disheveled, sticking up in different directions. He’d moved into a bedsit a few days after they’d returned home, unable to stay surrounded by all of Jim’s things. The small place was practically empty, the only furniture being a small table, chair, and a mattress. On the table beside him, there was a piece of paper and pen, and Davy signed the bottom of the page before setting the pen down and reaching for the gun on the floor, the one that he’d taken from Jim’s house (it was his father’s) and unlocking the safety. Pressing the barrel to his temple, he whispered one last goodbye to the world and a hello to the mysterious after that he was entering. “Perhaps I’ll see you there, James.”

The only answer was the report of the gunshot.

 

 

 


End file.
